


Have yourself a merry little Christmas

by apricity



Category: Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice
Genre: F/M, Pre-Series, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:51:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricity/pseuds/apricity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Addison during one of their earlier, happier New York Christmases.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have yourself a merry little Christmas

You roll over in the middle of the night and slide your hand across the sheets, looking to wrap it around Addie’s waist and pull her close, but all your hand finds is flannel. Cold flannel.

 

You sigh and rub one hand over your eyes, then through your hair, before sitting up in bed. There isn’t the slightest doubt in your mind about where Addie is or what she’s doing, so you take your time as you make your way downstairs.

 

When you reach the doorway to the living room you see exactly what you had expected. The tree, which had been completely undecorated when you had gone to bed, is now covered in perfectly spaced little white lights and there is a pile of boxes and tissue paper stuffed into one corner of the room. Arrayed all across the floor are what you know adds up to well over two hundred ornaments. The only lights on in the room are those on the tree, so it is a little hard for you to see them all, but, after five years of marriage and six Christmases together, you know that they are all sorted into groups, and subgroups. And that these subgroups have their own subgroups, and that they are all catalogued perfectly in her head.

 

There are the antique glass ones that she had inherited when her grandmother died three years ago, ornaments which had hung on ten foot Christmas trees in huge Nantucket mansions. There are the glitter covered pinecones and little felt Christmas trees that your nieces and nephews had given her (it still surprises you that she continues to put them up year after year). And then there is your group. It’s small, but it’s growing, one ornament for every Christmas you have been together. You can’t help but smirk when you think about what her reaction will be to this year’s ornament, which is upstairs right now, tucked away in the back of your closet. She knows how old she was when she got each ornament, whether it was a gift or something she bought for herself. She remembers the whole story behind each one.

 

And in the middle of this carefully ordered mess is Addie.

 

She’s sitting on the floor, facing the tree, with her legs drawn up to her chest and her chin resting on her knees. You lean against the doorframe and watch with a slight smile as she turns her head slowly from side to side, looking over all of the ornaments and trying to decide where to begin.

 

This was the only part of Christmas that Addison ever did alone. Shopping, watching all of the old movies on television, going for walks in Central Park and listening to the carolers, decorating the rest of the house, and planning for parties- those things you did together. But this was Addison’s private tradition. And you love her more than enough to let her keep it, even if some parts of you wished that she would let you help. 

 

When you walk back into the room fifteen minutes later, carrying one coffee mug in each hand, you find her standing, hands on her hips, looking at the star she had just put on the very top of the tree. She’s facing the doorway this time, and when she sees you she smiles. And you know her face would be glowing even if it wasn’t for the soft light from the tree.

 

You give her the other coffee mug, wrap your free hand around her waist and pull her toward you. You pause for a moment, your noses and foreheads almost touching, and watch as her eyelids flutter shut. You lean in just a bit further to place an airy kiss on her cheek and whisper, “Merry Christmas” in her ear. She leans back and you feel your breath start to come short as you see the blush rising in her cheeks. You want to hold her longer, indefinitely actually, but you know better. You don’t want to intrude so you give her a little squeeze, place a kiss on her forehead, and move over to the couch.

 

You sit and watch as she carefully picks out the perfect spot for each ornament, sometimes stepping back, face slightly scrunched in concentration, and deciding to rearrange her last fifteen minutes’ worth of work.

 

Once she has found places for all of the ornaments on the tree, examined it thoroughly from all sides and finally decided that she is happy with it, she sits beside you, slides one hand up across your chest and tucks her head under your chin. Within a few minutes you can feel yourself beginning to nod off. You know that you have less than an hour to sleep, but there is supposed to be a snow storm tomorrow afternoon, and the thought of taking a night walk through fresh snow in Central Park with Addison by your side is enough to get you through any day.


End file.
